


Vampires in Venice

by ThornWild



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Anal, Angry Sex, Dominance, Fighting, M/M, that once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornWild/pseuds/ThornWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Angel and me have never been intimate. Except that once...' </p><p>Venice, 1894. The Scourge of Europe have fled Rome and The Immortal. Spike and Angelus make it back from a night of slaughter to find the house empty. To pass the time, they drink wine, play cards and get into an argument with a rather interesting conclusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vampires in Venice

They ran up the cobbled walkway, reaching the door of the house just as the first rays of sunlight hit the rooftops of Venice, reflecting off the smooth-as-glass water of the canals. Spike clutched his stomach, gasping for unneeded air between fits of laughter, while Angelus struggled to get the door open. They slipped inside, avoiding the reflected sunlight by a hair’s breadth. 

‘That… that couple in the gondola!’ Spike chortled, supporting himself on his grandsire’s shoulder, trying to regain his balance. ‘The looks on their bloody faces when you snuck up behind the driver… Priceless!’ He straightened, a wicked grin adorning his features. ‘I bloody love Venice, mate. I don’t ever wanna leave!’

He raced up the stairs, two at a time. ‘Dru!’ he shouted. ‘Where are you, kitten? Daddy’s home and he needs some attention!’ The blood and violence of the night had left him hard and decidedly horny, and he ached for his princess to help him relieve some of the pressure. He reached the bedroom to find it empty. ‘Drusilla?’ Brow furrowed, he sniffed the air. The lingering scent of her was hours old. She wasn’t there. Neither was Darla.

Spike headed back down the stairs and found Angelus lounging in a chair in the front parlour, his feet up on the octagonal table before him.

‘They’re not here,’ Spike said hesitantly.

‘No,’ Angelus responded simply.

‘Well, where are they?’ Spike’s voice gained in pitch. ‘You don’t think… _he_ has them again, do you?’

Angelus snorted. ‘Course not,’ he said. ‘The Immortal’s in Rome, he wouldn’t follow us here over a couple of women! They probably just stayed out too late, had to find shelter elsewhere. We cut it kind of close ourselves, if you didn’t notice.’

Spike scratched the back of his head absentmindedly, pouting ever so slightly. ‘Well, what am I supposed to do about this, then?’ he demanded, indicating the bulge in his trousers.

‘Suppose we’ll just have to occupy ourselves elsewise, won’t we?’ Angelus commented without sparing him a glance.

Spike raised an eyebrow and stared at the older vampire, disbelieving. Was Angelus suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? His grandsire looked up at his lack of response and gave a harsh laugh upon seeing the look on his face.

‘Get your mind out of the gutter, William,’ he said calmly. ‘I meant that there’s a deck of cards in the library, and a very fine selection of Amarone in the cellar. Why don’t you get the wine? I’ll fetch the cards.’

Letting out a sigh of relief, Spike headed down the stairs to the cellar.

The house they were staying in had lately belonged to a Venetian gentleman of some standing, his lady wife and their two young children. They had most graciously invited the four English-speaking tourists into their very fine home. It was the last thing they ever did, their corpses now gathering flies on the kitchen floor, along with that of a pretty, young chamber maid whom Angelus had taken particular pleasure in draining dry. 

The house had come with three bedrooms, a magnificent library and a wine cellar stocked to the brim with one of the finest collections of dark red Amarone any of the four had ever seen. It must have taken years to collect all those bottles, yet it had only taken a few days to bring the collection down to half.

Spike grabbed as many bottles as he could carry and made his way back up to where Angelus was now dealing cards. Not bothering with cork screws, they decapitated the bottles by banging the necks against the edge of the table and drank deep from the jagged edges.

‘Good year, that,’ Spike burped, having drained the first, and reached for another.

* * *

‘The Romans called Amarone “black wine”, ye know,’ Angelus remarked, his voice slightly slurred. ‘They didn’t deal in simply red and white, they had a whole spectrum of wine colours. And this,’ he pointed to the bottle in his hand, ‘this they called black.’

Spike rolled his eyes and folded his hand, tossing it carelessly onto the table before him. ‘I am so desperately _bored_!’ he bellowed, getting to his feet. They weren’t so steady now as they had been three bottles ago, but he took another swig all the same. ‘And horny,’ he added as an afterthought, pulling at his trousers slightly.

‘Oh, shut it, Willy!’ Angelus snapped. ‘You’re not the only one, so shut your trap and get over yourself, for feck’s sake!’

Perhaps he was spurred on by the alcohol, or it might just have been his self-destructive urge to tease his elder, but Spike set his bottle down on the octagonal table with a bang and, curling his tongue behind his teeth, unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt.

‘Well, maybe we should do something about it, then?’ he drawled seductively, gazing at Angelus with lidded blue eyes.

His grandsire growled, releasing his demon, and before Spike could react, he was pinned to the wall, Angelus’s face mere inches from his own. ‘I have just about had it up to here with you, boy!’ His voice was quiet and deadly. ‘If ye weren’t part of the family, I would’ve staked ya a long time ago!’

Spike laughed breathlessly through the haze of wine and the rush of adrenaline. ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ he sneered. ‘You like tormenting me too much!’ And then, irrationally and unthinkingly, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Angelus’s, hard.

It was never meant to be a kiss. Rather, it was a demonstration, an act of rebellion, perhaps. Disobedience. He didn’t know what he expected to happen. That was half the fun of it.

Angelus’s yellow eyes widened in shock, and his face changed back to its human form immediately, eyes turning brown. Then his brow furrowed and his expression darkened. ‘Yet ye mock me!’ he snarled. ‘You dare!’

His fist connected with Spike’s gut, hard, and the younger vampire doubled up in pain, groaning.

‘That’s the way it’s gonna be, then, is it?’ Spike queried, his voice throaty and hoarse. He was rewarded with yet another punch.

‘I’ve obviously failed in my duties as head of this family,’ Angelus growled. ‘I think I need to teach ya some respect!’ He landed a third punch, to Spike’s chest this time. ‘ _Dear William_!’ he added in a rather successful imitation of Drusilla.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Spike coughed. ‘Guess we’ll see about that, won’t we, _Liam_?’

Angelus’s face contorted with rage and incredulity upon hearing his human name, and he froze just long enough to allow Spike to land a kick that sent him sprawling. He quickly got back to his feet, however, back in game face. 

‘Think ya can beat me?’ he sneered. ‘I’m still stronger than you, little Willy!’

‘The name is _Spike_!’ Spike spat, lunging at him.

Angelus was ready for him, and soon had him by the throat and pinned to the table top, Spike’s half empty bottle of wine falling to the floor and shattering. ‘Your name is whatever I say it is!’ he hissed. ‘And you are what I say ye are. It’s time ya learn that!’ Then he moved in, quick as lightning, and sunk his fangs into Spike’s neck.

Spike groaned, and then laughed. ‘Does it make you hard?’ he murmured into Angelus’s ear. ‘Havin’ me on my back like this?’

Angelus growled, and then released him. ‘Damnit, Spike!’ he roared, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

Spike propped himself up on his elbows and regarded his grandsire who was now pacing the room, his face human once more. He smirked. ‘That’s what it takes, innit? I have to push you to the end of your tether for you to call me that.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Make me!’

Angelus glared at him. Then his expression softened. He chuckled and ran his hand through his dark hair. ‘What would it take to make you shut up, I wonder?’ He bent down and picked up a piece of broken bottle, licking a drop of dark red wine off it. ‘Perhaps I’ll have to take you up on your… _suggestion_.’ He turned his dark eyes to Spike and stared straight into his eyes as he said it. 

Spike felt a shiver go up his spine. He almost believed him. ‘Hey, now,’ he said with a placating smile, sitting up a little further, ‘you know that was just a joke, yeah?’

‘I think you need to learn a lesson.’ Eyes still fixed on those of his progeny, Angelus took a few steps closer. ‘I’ve never been with a man before. Well, not in any way that counted… Neither have you, I’d wager.’

Spike shifted a little, but didn’t move away. Part of him was intrigued. Part of him wondered what it would be like. What Angelus would feel like. He shook the thought from his head and didn’t say a word.

Still walking slowly towards him, as though reading his mind, Angelus said, ‘Haven’t you wondered what it would be like? With a man? With me?’ He closed the distance and looked down at Spike, moving to touch his dark honey blonde hair. ‘What I’d feel like inside you?’

Spike slapped the hand away. ‘Sod off!’ he scoffed, looking resolutely away from the other man’s intent stare. ‘If anyone’s gonna be inside anyone, it’ll be me, all right?’

Angelus laughed softly. ‘You’ve barely been a vampire fourteen years, little Willy! You’re little more than a fledgling. What makes you think you could overpower me?’ He pressed the piece of broken glass to Spike’s neck, making a fresh cut right next to the fang marks from earlier. 

‘You know, physically, I’ve got three years on you!’ Spike grumbled.

‘You know, in actuality, I’ve got over a hundred years on you!’ Angelus growled. ‘Also, about four inches,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘Yeah, rub it in…’

Angelus smirked. ‘Aye, perhaps I will.’

Spike’s head snapped up and he glared at Angelus. ‘What are you–’

Before he could finish his sentence, Angelus’s mouth was covering his own, his tongue forcing its way inside. He tasted like blood and rich wine. Iron and tannins. Angelus nipped at his lower lip, his hand snaking into his hair and pulling slightly. Spike felt the breath he didn’t need grow laboured and heavy, his eyes slipping shut of their own accord, and against his better judgment he leaned into the kiss.

Angelus dropped the glass shard onto the table, and his grip on Spike’s hair tightened as he tugged, pulling his head back to expose his throat. He attacked it with lips, tongue and blunt teeth, lapping up the blood pouring from the cut, enticing a pointless gasp from Spike. Angelus had one of his wrists in a vicelike grip, hard enough to bruise, and now he bit into his neck and Spike released a loud groan, his eyes flying open.

Pain. It clouded his vision. He felt a dull, pounding ache in the roots of his hair. A sharp, throbbing pain in the wounds on his neck that were already healing. A tightness around his wrist, causing his fingers to feel numb. And a stabbing, prickly pain where Angelus was currently biting him. His lips felt raw and sore, and he was acutely aware of the wood of the table against his back. On his torso, bruises were already forming from the beating Angelus had given him.

The other vampire released his neck, and his hold on his hair and wrist, and tore open his shirt. Only vaguely aware of what he was doing, Spike shed the remains of the shirt from his shoulders and arms and grabbed the back of Angelus’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss as the other rid himself of his own shirt. Spike had long since stopped wondering what would happen next and where this was going—he had always lived in the moment. This moment was no different from any other. All that mattered was now.

Hands explored his pale skin, teasing his nipples, pinching and pulling. Spike returned the favour, marvelling at the feel of taut muscles beneath his fingertips, so different from the supple curves he was used to. Everything about Angelus was hard, tight, angular. Yet his skin was so smooth…

Angelus pushed his knee in between Spike’s thighs, and he tensed up, hips bucking involuntarily, and released a whimper as the other twisted his nipple and bit at his sore lower lip. Angelus pulled back and smirked at him.

‘Look who’s getting all hot and bothered,’ he murmured. ‘Sure ye’re not secretly a backgammon player?’

‘Hey!’ Spike glared at him. ‘Out of the two of us, I’m hardly the biggest Harry hoofter!’

Angelus laughed softly. ‘Oh, I’d hardly say you’re the biggest anything…’ He eyed the front of Spike’s trousers, where he was obviously granite hard.

‘Oi!’ Spike pushed him off, roughly. ‘I don’t have to take that from you, you ponce!’

His elder growled low in his throat and pulled him to his feet by his throat, landing another punch to his gut. Then he flipped him around and pushed him back down onto the table, twisting his arm behind his back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Spike managed to be amazed that the octagonal table was still standing. Quality Venetian craftsmanship.

Angelus leaned over him, until his mouth was next to his ear, and whispered, ‘I think that’s enough foreplay, don’t you, William?’

‘Get the bloody hell off me!’ Spike snarled, making an attempt at shaking him off, but it only served to tighten his grandsire’s grip on his arm, twisting it further, and Spike hissed in pain and ceased his struggles.

With his other hand, Angelus loosened Spike’s trousers and pulled them down to his knees. Spike could hear him pull down his own, and then something large and hard was pushing at his buttocks.

Spike swallowed, a shiver running down his spine. ‘Angelus,’ he pleaded shakily. ‘Don’t.’

‘Tell me you don’t want it,’ Angelus drawled. And Spike opened his mouth to tell him that he most definitely did not… and didn’t say a word.

He was a vampire. He would never grow old or frail. Every wound, every scar, would heal. There was nothing in this world for him to fear. And what was the point of all that if you didn’t try everything at least once?

Angelus registered his silence and chuckled. ‘Didn’t think so,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t worry, little Willy. I’ll be gentle with you.’ He paused, releasing his arm and carding his fingers through his curls in an almost tender way. Then he pulled, hard. ‘Who am I kidding? No, I won’t!’

It was like an explosion. Fireworks erupted in Spike’s vision and he cried out in pain as the man holding him down penetrated him, pushed deep inside, filled him to the brim. His whole body tensed and shook. Then Angelus began to thrust, slowly, and, inch by inch, the pain gave way to something else. Spike drew ragged breath upon ragged breath, oblivious to the fact that he didn’t need them. And even though neither of them had a body temperature, the feel of Angelus there, deep inside him, made him feel warm. It burned him. And then Spike was pushing back against him, groaning deep in his throat, moaning.

Angelus leaned over him, placing his weight on top of him. One hand was gripping Spike’s hip. The other released his hair and found his hand, entwining their fingers in a gesture that was simultaneously soft and brutal as he squeezed the fingers painfully between his own larger ones.

Spike lifted his free hand and reached up behind him to grab the back of Angelus’s neck and, tilting his head back, pulled his face down to his own, capturing his lips. Angelus moaned into his mouth, thrusting harder and faster, and Spike felt fit to burst as Angelus released his lips and cried out. 

And then it was over, and Angelus lay spent and panting on top of him.

There came the sound of a creaking door, followed by a giggle and a delighted shriek.

‘Look, Grandmother, look at our boys!’

Quicker than Spike would have believed, Angelus was off him. Was it really dusk already? He stared up at the two women in the doorway. The look on Drusilla’s face was positively gleeful and she was bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Darla covered her mouth with gloved hands, her eyes wide.

Had he been able to, Spike would have blushed deep crimson. As it was, he endeavoured to get to his feet in as nonchalant a manner as possible, managing to pull his trousers back up without further embarrassing himself. Glancing at Angelus, he found him buttoning his trousers while staring resolutely anywhere but at his sire and childe.

‘What…’ Darla’s look of shock faded to be replaced with one of amusement. ‘Naughty boys, what on Earth have you been up to?’

Spike shrugged. ‘Got bored,’ he said simply. 

‘Since you vapid wenches didn’t manage to make it home before sunrise, we had to make our own fun,’ Angelus supplied haughtily, apparently done with feeling ashamed, but Spike noted with a hint of satisfaction that his voice was a notch higher than usual.

‘Ooh, I want to play, I want to play!’ Drusilla cried happily. ‘My naughty little Spike, you’re bleeding! Will you bleed for me, too, oh please?’

Spike raised an eyebrow and leered at her. His escapade with Angelus, while certainly interesting, hadn’t really done much of anything to relieve him of the tightness in his trousers.

He spared a final glance for the older vampire and was pleased to find that Angelus resolutely refused to meet his eye. Then he took Drusilla by the hand and bounded up the stairs to their bedroom.

If Spike ever thought back on his experience with fondness, he never told anyone. The two of them never spoke of it, and a week later, when they had run out of wine and the population had begun to direct suspicion towards them, they left Venice. But it would be a long time before Spike could hear mention of that city, or enjoy a glass of Amarone, without remembering strong hands, hard muscles and fireworks.


End file.
